Determination
by ksfd89
Summary: Fic about Lorelai's life before getting pregnant. Gilmore Girls isn't mine!


**Fic about Lorelai's life before getting pregnant. Gilmore Girls isn't mine!**

"Lorelai, come down here please!"

Lorelai Gilmore sits up with a sigh. She's practising her dance routine and hoists up her legwarmers.

"Just a sec, Mom!"

"Not a sec, now!"

Before Lorelai can call back the door is flung open and her mother, Emily stands in the doorway, her expression of annoyance switching to one of disgust. Lorelai looks down, knowing she's blushing. Her hair is tied up on top of her head and she's wearing sweatpants over a leotard.

"What on earth are you wearing?"

"Nothing."

"It doesn't look like nothing," Emily remarks, walking over and picking up a magazine on the bed. "It looks like you're emulating one of these ridiculous women in this feature. It's about that dreadful movie you saw - that one with the stripper who liked welding."

" _Flashdance_ , and she wasn't a stripper."

"She looks like one in this picture," Emily says, waving the magazine at her daughter. "These clothes barely cover her!"

"Put it back, Mom."

"And that music makes my ears bleed," Emily continues. "You were raised with Mozart, Lorelai, with Beethoven and you choose to listen to this? It's nothing but noise!"

"I like it."

"Well, of course you do," Emily says with derision. "Along with that tacky denim jacket you saved up for last month."

"I'm not making you wear it."

"Chance would be a fine thing," her mother remarks. "Get changed and come down. The DAR ladies are here and they want to see you."

Lorelai groans internally and Emily, reading her mind, says,

"I heard that. Get changed into something decent and for heaven's sake, brush your hair. You look as if you've been living like a squirrel."

Lorelai makes a face when her mother's back is turned and goes to the closet, picking an outfit in dull, sensible colours. She pulls on a brown skirt and black blouse before brushing her hair, wrinkling her nose in the mirror. Her curls splay out, refusing to lie flat, uncontrollable. Like her, her father likes to tease at times. Lorelai puts on the smart shoes which pinch her ankles and makes her way downstairs, where the maid is waiting.

"They're on the patio, Miss Gilmore," the maid tells her and Lorelai nods.

"Thanks," she says. She thinks her name is Ruth but isn't sure, and the maid notices her hesitation.

"Would you like to to tell them you're coming?"

"No! God, no, sorry -" Lorelai pauses, shaking her head. "It's fine. I'm fine. Thanks."

The maid nods and just then Emily appears around the corner.

"Ruth, I don't pay you to stand around chatting. Get back to work."

"Yes ma'am," Ruth says meekly and Lorelai's heart drops. She'll be replaced by Monday and Lorelai liked her a lot.

"We're on the patio," Emily says, jostling her daughter into action. "Stand tall, Lorelai."

"How else am I supposed to stand?"

Emily ignores her and pushes her into the hall and outside, where her friends are gathered.

"Here she is!" Emily says cheerfully, putting her hands on her daughter's shoulders. "Say hello to the ladies, Lorelai."

"Hi," Lorelai mumbles. She's hardly a shy person but her words also evaporate around the DAR, who let out a cry of greeting.

"Lorelai's here!" exclaims one of the ladies, getting to her feet and going over. "And you still have that wonderful walk! Don't you just love her walk, Emily?"

Her mother laughs and Lorelai smiles awkwardly. The women are all around her mother's age but all seem about fifty, and Lorelai doubts it'll ever change. She can see them, when she's thirty, all wearing the same matching sweaters, skirts and sets of pearls. She doesn't know where she'll be at thirty, only that it won't be here.

"Lorelai, let me get you a drink," Emily says. "Go and sit down."

"Martini with a twist?"

"Very funny," Emily says as all the women laugh. "You can have a nice cold soda. Sit."

Lorelai sits in one of the empty chairs left for her and her mother, unfortunately in the centre of the patio. She takes the soda, starts to answer the endless array of questions and feels her mind begin to glaze over. Yes, she's in her sophomore year. Yes, she's getting good grades and no, she hasn't really thought about college. What she really wants to do is take some time out, but Lorelai doesn't say that. She wouldn't know where to begin.

"I'm sure you'll get in everywhere," one of the women says fondly. "A smart girl like you!"

"She'd be a lot smarter if she put more work in," Emily says icily. "She'd sooner spend time studying magazines!"

"Mom," Lorelai says under her breath. She gets the same thing from her father every night, it seems. Why can't she put more effort in? Why doesn't she have any aim? _I'm the top of my class_ Lorelai retorted and her father snapped, _it's not enough, Lorelai. You have to know where you're going._

She does know where she's going. Away from here, and Lorelai drinks more of her soda. The women make a joke about teenage girls being allergic to schooling and her mother laughs. It's forced, but Lorelai can only tell because she knows her, and thankfully the subject changes. A woman with bottle-blonde hair asks for another glass of wine and Emily takes her glass.

"It's good to see you, Shira. How is that bouncing baby boy of yours?"

"Logan is fine," Shira says. "Already handsome. Honor's just about stopped asking me to give him back."

Emily laughs, handing her glass back and Lorelai drains her own, wishing she were allowed to get a cup of coffee. Lorelai listens to summer plans and poolhouse renovations and absently tugs at her skirt, earning a glare from her mother. Lorelai sighs, shifts and then sits up. Another woman has come to join them and with them is her son.

"Francine, you brought Christopher!" Emily exclaims, hastening over. "Young man, how are you?"

"Just fine, Emily. You look well."

"Your son knows how to charm," Emily beams, luckily missing Lorelai laugh. "Can I get you both a drink?"

"White wine and soda," Francine requests and Christopher says smoothly,

"Just half a glass, I'm driving."

"Oh, stop," Emily says fondly. "Sit down, you two. Lorelai, get up."

Lorelai does so, feeling a stab of annoyance. Jokes about drinks from her gets her reprimands but Christopher is rewarded with laughter. It's always that way. She came top of the class for American Literature and Christopher got detention for climbing out of a window, but her father just made a joke about boys being boys. She climbed out of a window once and her father made her file backreports to learn responsibility.

Christopher smiles and Lorelai's irritation vanishes.

"Hey, Chris."

"Hey, Lor. You look great."

"Thanks," Lorelai says, trying not blush. She's pretty sure she fails and stares at her fancy shoes.

Francine sits down but Christopher gestures at the seat beside her to Emily.

"I couldn't possibly take your seat, Emily. I'm very happy to stand."

"Nonsense, we'll fetch another chair."

"I'm happy standing here with Lor."

"I daresay you don't want to be bored with us anyway," Emily says shrewdly. "A young man has better things to do than listen to our chatter! Go on with Lorelai."

"Really?" Lorelai can't help asking and her mother shoots her a look.

"It wasn't a test, dear."

Lorelai does blush this time and follows Christopher off the patio, hating how stupid she feels. How her mother always makes her feel this way, no matter how used to it she is. She goes into the hall and past the study, where Lorelai knows her father is sequestered and will be until the DAR ladies are gone. As a child, she would hide out with him where they played endless games of chess, a record of some classical musician in the background. They'd play for hours, not hearing Emily call, and if Lorelai ever beat her father he'd very solemnly unwrap a candy, hand it to her and get out of his chair. _You deserve to sit here now_ , he'd say. _A true master of the game_.

Lorelai doesn't know when it stopped. Someday, it seemed, she couldn't stand the idea of sitting in there for hours, especially as her father would sigh and ask why she wasn't getting on with homework. The only thing they share now is frustration.

Christopher goes up the stairs and Lorelai walks ahead, hurrying into her bedroom. She wants to clear away the clothes from before but Christopher sees and laughs.

"Another dance routine?"

"Shut up."

"I bet it was graceful."

"I said, shut up."

"Make me."

Lorelai leans over, kissing him. He kisses her back, surprised, and Lorelai pulls back with a laugh.

"That worked."

"I'll say," Christopher says, sounding a little dazed. "Any chance I'll get to see you in that leotard?"

"Shut up, Chris."

He laughs and this time is ready as Lorelai kisses him, putting his arms around her and pushing his body to hers. They kiss and kiss but as Christopher's hands start to slip beneath her blouse Lorelai steps back.

"We'd better slow down."

"They'll be talking for hours," Christopher protests and, indeed, Lorelai can hear the laughter wafting through the open window into her bedroom. It's unseasonably warm for October and Lorelai yearns for fall.

"You know Emily," she says, going and sitting on the bed. "She could come in any minute."

"Or my mom," Christopher interjects and Lorelai adds,

"Or both of them."

"Yeah, that's killed any mood," Christopher remarks. He grimaces, going over and says,

"So how long do we have?"

"I'd say another two hours. Three, tops. They still have their husbands' work, functions and dinners to go through. Oh, and college."

"Our college?"

"Our future. Man, I hate it." Lorelai lies down, staring at the ceiling. "They think they own our lives."

"Don't you want to go to college?" Christopher asks, lying down beside her, and Lorelai sighs.

"I guess. But not their way."

Christopher kisses her cheek and Lorelai smiles, lying there for a minute before getting up. She's got a feeling Emily's going to enter at a bad time if she stays there.

"God, I've got to get out of these clothes."

"You say that about any Emily-approved outfit."

"Because it's Emily-approved."

Lorelai goes to the closet, finding a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, pointing at the door for Christopher to go through.

"No chance you'll let me help with the zipper?"

"None. Out."

Christopher chuckles, going to the bathroom while she changes, and when he comes back Lorelai is on the balcony, leaning over.

"They've gone inside."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning we can totally sneak out."

"And go where?"

"Who cares?" Lorelai exclaims. "Away!"

Christopher looks at her for a moment before grinning, carefully climbing through the window to join her. Before she climbs over the railing he kisses her again, in a way that makes her knees melt.

"Careful," she jokes. "You'll make me swoon and fall!"

"I'd catch you."

"Right."

Lorelai swings herself onto the drainpipe, well practised, and shimmies to the ground. Christopher follows her, less certainly, and then Lorelai grabs his hand and the two run away from the house and into a surrounding field where they fall, laughing hysterically.

"Here," Christopher says, pulling a bottle from his jacket. "Care for some scotch?"

"God, you're good," Lorelai says in admiration. "How'd you swipe that with my mother looking?"

"Got it at home before we came. They'll never notice."

"And I have just the thing to go with it," Lorelai says, delving into her pocket. "Cigarette?"

"Please," Christopher says, holding it out for Lorelai to light. "Emily still hasn't found your stash?"

"She thinks the drawer's filled with Tootise rolls."

They laugh and Lorelai lights her own, tucking the lighter back in her jeans. They smoke, coughing a little and lie back against the grass. The sky is big and full and Lorelai stares at how much it holds. At home it's so fractured, splintered in the lattice of their trees. She stares and stares and sits up as Christopher chokes on the scotch.

"A little strong, huh?"

"It's fine. I drank it too fast is all."

"Right," Lorelai says, rolling her eyes. She drinks some too, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and finally says,

"Chris, what do you want to do?"

"In college?"

"No, after college. Or after high school."

"I don't know. Something cool."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Why, what do you want?"

"I want to be away from here."

"You always say that."

"Because it's true. I'm sick of this place, Chris. I hate being made to act like a lady, told how to speak and how to dress and what to do all the time. I want something more than that. You heard all the ladies in the DAR, they've done the same thing for twenty years. Don't you want something more?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know," Lorelai says in frustration. "No, I do. I want my own house. Not my husband's house, not a house cleaned by a maid - my house. My own place, and it won't matter if you aren't dressed right or if you listen to trashy music or if the rooms are a mess. It'll be mine and that's all I want."

"How are you going to get that?"

"I'll get a job."

Christopher starts laughing and Lorelai stares, beginning to get annoyed as he doesn't stop.

"What?"

"What can you do, Lorelai?"

"I can figure it out."

"You think your dad is going to give you a place in his firm?"

"I don't want a place in his firm," Lorelai retorts. "But I'm just as good as he is. I could be. I do well in class, Chris."

"I know. I'm sure you'd be awesome at it."

"But?"

"But how are we going to figure it out? I mean, we talk about all this stuff, but..."

Christopher's voice trails off and a fierce flicker of determination sparks in Lorelai's chest.

"I don't know, but I am. I'm not going to go to college, get married and have kids. I'm not doing it their way."

"You always do it your way, Lor," Christopher says. He leans over, kissing her and Lorelai pulls him onto her. He tastes of smoke and cigarettes and cloying aftershave and finally Lorelai sits up. They've been kissing for longer and longer lately, exploring each other, but while she relishes being alone Lorelai doesn't think their first time should be out here. She has a feeling Emily can read her mind, last week she got a priest, a rabbi and Mormon missionary to come give her a talk on waiting for sex. That's another thing Lorelai has set her mind against, but has decided to keep to herself. She doesn't love the idea of finishing high school in a convent.

"Let's go," she says ruefully. "I don't want to spend next weekend grounded."

She and Christopher walk slowly back, climbing back up the drainpipe and through to her bedroom. Lorelai doesn't have time to change into her other clothes when she hears her mother coming and Emily enters, not bothering to knock.

"Christopher, your mother's ready to go now."

"I'll be right down. Thank you, Emily. Bye, Lorelai."

"Bye, Chris."

He hurries past her and, no sooner has the front door closed, than Emily snaps,

"What are you wearing?"

"Jeans and a shirt."

"Thank you, I don't need a sight test. What happened to your blouse and skirt?"

Before she can answer Emiy picks them up from where Lorelai threw them on a chair and exclaims,

"Did you change in front of him? What was going on in here?"

"Nothing, Mom!"

"You'd better not have been doing anything untoward."

"We weren't having sex, Mom!" Lorelai says boldly. She remembers Christopher's hands under her clothes, his hardness against her leg, and forces her blush back.

Emily flinches at the bluntness of the words but only says,

"That's no way for a young lady to talk. There are ways to act, Lorelai. Now come downstairs for dinner."

Lorelai sighs, following her mother. All the ladies have gone now, leaving a scent of gossip and expensive perfume. Her father is in the living room, reading the paper and Lorelai joins him.

"Hey, Dad."

"Hello, Lorelai," her father says without looking up. "They've definitely all gone?"

"The coast is clear."

"Thank heaven for that."

Lorelai smiles. Conversation like these remind her that she and her father aren't so different after all. They've always enjoyed poking fun at Emily's world but then Richard lowers his paper and stares.

"What on earth are you wearing?"

"It's jeans and a shirt, Dad."

"You've been walking around dressed like that?"

"Relax, Richard," Emily says, coming in with a cup of coffee. "She was wearing a decent outfit when our friends were here."

Richard nods and Lorelai spreads her hands, mouth falling open.

"Guys, it's just a pair of jeans. You're acting like I was wearing a miniskirt and porn T-shirt."

"I wouldn't put it past you," Emily snaps. "I don't understand this love for vulgar fashion."

"Oh Emily, you know Lorelai has an aversion to anything of taste," Richard says and the two of them laugh. Face smarting, Lorelai gets up and goes to the kitchen before she lets out a choice string of swear words. Inside, she takes deep breaths, smiling as she sees the percolator. Lorelai pours herself a big cup of coffee, drinking it in big gulps. That's another thing she'll do after high school - drink as much coffee as she wants, every day and anywhere. No one will boss her around. She goes out when the maid, Ruth, comes in and washes her face. It's almost seven and Lorelai joins her parents at the table where they're discussing the day.

"Shira Huntzberger asked for more wine before being offered," Emily says. "Can you imagine?"

"I wouldn't wait to be offered alcohol at DAR gatherings," Richard says drily. Lorelia giggles but he only glares. It seems she's still in bad graces.

"That's not the point, Richard! That woman never follows the rules of decorum! She doesn't belong!"

"Why'd you invite her then?" Lorelai can't help asking. "If you don't want her here?"

"Excuse me?"

"You don't seem to like her."

"That's not the point," Emily snaps. "For heaven's sake, you know that Lorelai. She's married to Mitchum Huntzberger."

"And we all know why," Richard adds, he and Emily breaking into laughter. Lorelai stares at her salad. She doesn't like this side of society. Hartford feels so hollow, filled with people who barely pretend to care about each other. Lorelai wants to go someplace where people actually like each other, and no one cares who you're married to. Last month, she had to go with her parents to Woodbridge, so they could look at antiques, and Richard took a wrong turn. They drove through a tiny town Lorelai missed the name of, but liked instantly. While her parents bickered she stared out of the window, drinking it all in. It was barely a town, more a collection of houses and quaint stores, centred by a gazebo. While they pulled over to the side of the road to check the route some guy with a baseball cap walked past, a skateboard in his hand. Lorelai leaned out of the window and called,

"Hey!"

"Hey," he said, going over. "You lost or something?"

"Yeah," Lorelai said, indicating at Emily and Richard who were too busy arguing over the map to notice. "Bitty and Howard won't ask someone for help."

"Think they'll listen to me?"

"Not unless you lose the hat."

The boy laughed, losing his gruff demeanour. He took the hat off, showing a shock of brown hair.

"Better?"

"Too scruffy. Plus you have the skateboard."

"Guess I'm no use then," the guy said, putting his hat back. "Where are you heading?"

"Woodbridge."

"Take a left at the turnpike and go straight."

"I'll pass it on," Lorelai said, just as her mother screeched _Richard!_ "If they ever stop fighting."

"I thought you said his name was Howard?"

"Same principle."

"Right," the guy said, grinning. "I'm Luke, by the way."

"Lorelai."

"Where are you from?"

"Hartford."

"Poor you."

"At least we have more than one place to eat," Lorelai retorted, automatically defensive. "When's the curfew here, ten?"

"Nine, actually, but that doesn't stop me. I broke the bells here once."

"Is that right?"

"Come back sometime and I'll prove it."

Lorelai grins, about to flirt back when a voice behind them calls,

"Luke! Get back here!"

Luke looked behind him to see a man with a scowl and smiled apologetically at Lorelai.

"That's my dad. I've got to go."

"Got a pen?"

"What?"

"Can I call you?"

"I -"

Before Luke could finish his sentence a girl with long, flyaway blonde hair came running over.

"Luke, Daddy's mad."

"I'm coming, Liz," Luke said and smiled at Lorelai. "See you."

"Yeah," Lorelai said sadly. "See you."

The brother and sister strode away before Lorelai could ask for their last name. She sat back in hear seat, disappointed, and noticed her mother and father were no longer arguing. A large woman with a cigarette holder was giving them directions, puffing out smoke between sentences, and finally Emily said coolly,

"Thank you. We'll be on our way now."

"Bye, doll. Enjoy the rest of your trip. I know I would, with a husband like that."

She laughed and Emily hissed at Richard to drive.

"Bitty, Howard, go left at the turnpike," Lorelai called.

"What is she talking about, Emily?"

"I have no idea. Let me see the map, Richard. Where did that hussy say the sign was?"

Emily and Richard ignored Lorelai's instructions, got lost another time and finally made it to Woodbridge an hour later than planned. Lorelai thought of the guy for a long time but finally let it go. She was sort of seeing Christopher, unofficially, and maybe she should simply be with him. He hasn't broken the bells but he's daring, and they've been friends since they were four. He knows her best after all.

They finish the salads and the maid brings out the main course of lamb chops. They're digging into the meat when Emily says,

"I spoke to Miss Celine last week. She's already got a selection of material for your dress ready, Lorelai."

Lorelai doesn't answer and Emily prods,

"For your coming out party."

"Did you hear your mother?" Richard demands. "Thank her."

"Thank you, Mom," Lorelai says quietly. She secretly doesn't want to go to her débutante ball but knows there's no point in saying that. She guesses it could be fun. She and Christopher can sneak booze from the bar. Emily nods approvingly and says,

"We'll take your measurements after Christmas. Don't eat too much this year."

Lorelai doesn't bother to respond to that. She deliberately takes a large bite of meat and Richard asks,

"Have you done your homework yet?"

"Dad, it's Saturday. I'll do it tomorrow."

"I don't like that attitude, Lorelai. If you got it done now you could do extra credit work on Sunday."

"Dad, it's fine. I'll get it done."

"You aren't taking this seriously, Lorelai!"

"But I have the best grades!"

"It's not enough, you know it isn't! You have a bright mind but it's going to waste!"

"How?" Lorelai demands, dropping her fork. "How am I wasting it? Just because I'd rather spend my Saturday having fun? Wearing clothes you don't approve of and music you hate? That's what's wasting my mind?"

"You are being frivolous, and I did not raise you to be frivolous. I raised you to be intelligent."

"I am intelligent!" Lorelai shouts, ignoring her mother's,

"Now, now."

"Intelligent girls do not save up allowance for denim jackets, or lipsticks they can hang around their necks. Intelligent girls concentrate on getting ready for college."

"And then what?" Lorelai demands. "I get married and have three children? No!"

"What do you mean, no?" Richard exclaims, face red. "Of course that's what you'll do. You'll get an education and then you'll get married."

"What's the point of an education if I'm only going to get married?"

"Only going to - Emily, do you hear this girl?"

"Both of you, stop overreacting," Emily says quickly. "Richard, Lorelai doesn't mean that. Lorelai, your father just wants what's best."

"But it's not what's best!"

"Yes it is, of course it is!" Emily cries. "You'll go to Yale and marry a nice boy like Christopher."

"I am not getting married to Christopher!"

Lorelai didn't feel the revulsion of the thought until she said it. She likes Christopher, maybe even loves him, but can't stand the thought of being married to him. Living in a stuffy, ornamented house with their parents dropping in every five minutes, noisy toddlers at their feet - Lorelai can't bear it.

"I didn't say it had to be Christopher," Emily says. "I just meant a boy like him."

"I don't want to marry a boy like him."

"I don't see why not."

"Because she's Lorelai," Richard says in a weary tone and Emily shakes her head.

"I don't see what's wrong with Christopher, if we're getting to that. He's bright, from a good family and the two of you are seeing each other. Why are you dating him if you don't want to marry him?"

"Because I'm fifteen!" Lorelai exclaims. "I'm in high school, Mom! I don't want my whole future mapped out!"

"It's about time you planned something!" Richard snaps. "You never sit down long enough to plan beyond a trip to the mall!"

"I plan to get away from here!"

"Impossible girl! When are you going to grow up? You're no longer a child!"

"I'm not a child, but you have to approve my clothes," Lorelai says, jaw trembling. "What I do with my free time, who I see. If I don't do things your way it's not good enough!"

"You have a responsibility to this family," Richard retorts. "You are a Gilmore. You are extremely lucky to be part of that name and one day, when you take someone else's, I don't want it be tarnished!"

"Maybe I'll keep my name."

"Oh, don't be absurd."

"No, this is!" Lorelai cries. "What are you going to do if things don't work out, Dad? What if I don't go to college, don't get married? Are you and Mom still going to care about me or will you just care about me ruining your name?"

There's a pause and then Emily says,

"Don't be ridiculous, Lorelai. You've got overexcited. Now finish your dinner."

"Thank you, I'm not hungry," Lorelai says in a small voice. "May I be excused?"

Her parents sigh, look at each other and nod. Lorelai slips out of her seat, pauses by the door and hears Richard say,

"Why must she be so wilful?"

"She's like you, Richard."

"I wish she'd just follow the rules," her father says in a tired voice. "I always did what my parents expected of me, I never defied them. We've given her the best of everything. Why must she be so stubborn?"

"It's who she is."

"Well, I wish it weren't."

Tears prick in Lorelai's eyes and she runs upstairs. They long for another daughter, an improved Lorelai. A girl who's sweet and polite and does her homework and knows she's going to college. A girl who wants to wear her débutante dress and make conversation with ladies from the DAR. A daughter who simply does what they ask without question. Lorelai can never give them that. She can't remember a time where she ever complied with her parents. She is who she is and she goes to her room with a heavy heart. Her telephone rings and Lorelai picks up the receiver.

"Hey Lor. How's the house of horrors?"

"Horrific," Lorelai says. Her laugh catches in a sob and she says,

"Chris, let's go somewhere."

"What?"

"Sneak out, come meet me."

"Lor, we did that earlier."

"So?" Lorelai demands. "I need to see you."

"Lor -"

"Please, Chris."

"I can't. My father wants me to help him with insurance stuff."

"Oh. Right."

"Sorry."

"It's okay," Lorelai says quietly. She remembers being twelve, asking her father if she could help, and him laughing. Saying she didn't need to bother with that. "I'll talk to you later."

"Bye, Lorelai."

"Bye, Christopher."

Lorelai hangs up the phone, sniffling. She takes another cigarette, finds the lighter, and climbs down the drainpipe alone. She looks back at the house before running away, stopping in the field she fell in before. Lorelai leans against a tree, smoking the cigarette and stares at the orange light, so bright it seems unreal. The smoke burns her throat but Lorelai sucks it in, enjoying the headiness. She's dazed by the endless night sky. One day she's getting away. One day she'll leave and laugh at the life she led. She's going to have her own place, own job and this house won't be home. It already isn't. The future shines, just out of reach, and Lorelai closes her eyes. She's getting there, in her own way, the way her parents never understand. The way she's always known.


End file.
